Sleeping With My Married Ex

Chapter 10

I roll over in bed to look at my clock. It's 6:33AM and someone had the balls to bang repetitively on my door as if they lost their damn mind. I swear to god if it's Warren, he's a dead man. I slug out of bed, my pajama shorts twisting up my thighs. Straightening my clothes, I angrily make my way to the door. This is a good hour and a half before my time to wake up for work. There better be a death reason for me to be up at this time.

I unlock the door and swing it open, looking death right in the eye.
"What happened?" Donovan storms right pass me into the apartment.
"Well, good morning to you too, Sunshine. Nice seeing you at this ungodly ass hour," I speak to the empty space in front of me. I close the door. I'm not trying to be an ass. I'm just cranky when I wake up, especially when I'm woken up.
Donovan ignores my snide remark and repeats his question.
"I have no clue what you're talking about?" I say.
"You and Tara," he says.

It takes me a few seconds to figure out what he's referring to. My little confrontation with his wife. I roll my eyes and drag my feet over to the sofa where I collapse on it and curl into a little ball. It's too early and I'm too tired to think about anything insignificant. I yawn. "She asked me if I was sleeping with you. Very rudely in fact. How'd you know about that?" After going into Sam's apartment, I put the entire thing out my head.

"She called, running a bunch of nonsense into my ear," he replies, taking a seat at my feet. "Why didn't you?"
I close my eyes and let myself relax into the sofa. "Why should I have? I didn't think it was something I needed to come crying to you about."
"My wife approaches you and you don't think I need to know?"
Maybe it's because I'm too tired, but his claim, "my wife", grates against my skin like a nail on a chalkboard. "And now you're suddenly so involved in everything that concerns her?" I heave and snatch the bonnet off my head, combing one hand through my hair. "It's your job to watch her. Not my job to report it."
"Why are you snapping at me?" Donovan sits there, his head tilted to the side, analyzing me.  
"It's six-thirty. I just went to bed at three, and your come pounding on my door asking me about something that doesn't even warrant a second thought. Excuse me if I'm a bit cranky."

He sighs and wrap one hand around my ankle. It's funny how he can wrap two fingers around my entire ankle. I peak through one eye down at him. I don't think he's consciously aware that he's stroking his thumb over my ankle. I close my eyes again.

"If she ever approaches you like that again, let me know. Okay?" He's speaking long term. That means even after witnessing his wife kissing another man he's staying. What? Is she some billionaire heiress and he wants her insurance money or something?
"Why should I? I don't need to run to you when the little bully tries to scare me."
"Because, Tara's a shiesty bitch. That's why."
I snort.
"It's not below her to try to sneak you, call her girls and all that."
I laugh and look at him. "I'm not worried about her, Donny. You should know me well enough."
"I do know you well enough, which is why I'm telling you this. You're too trusting Shannon."
I grunt.
"You think because you play fair everyone else will as well, but that's not how it works. Especially with her."
"Oh, I think I figured that much out." I push myself up. "She had to balls to ask me if I was sleeping with you. Her! Of all fucking people. She prances that guy in and out of that apartment whenever you're not here, and he's not the only guy I've saw enter and exit your house while you're gone. But she really feels like she's in some position to question who else you may be sleeping with. That's just hypocritical. I wanted to say I was just to spite her."

"Why didn't you?" he sounds amused. The slow strokes from my ankle spread up my calf, now with both hands. Massage, and it feels so good I collapse back onto the sofa. The last time I had a massage, by a guy, that I didn't have to pay for was...Never. Never in my adult life. Wow.
"I'm not. That's why." I sigh in contentment when he pressures into a really tense spot. Damn, but his hands are golden. "Donovan, really. I'm not the least bit concerned about that woman. I have a future, a career that I love. I'm not going to jeopardize that by having the police lock me up because I threw that witch's head through the wall all because you married a tramp. So there's no need to lie and degrade myself with such a lie."

"People will believe what they want despite what you say anyway."
"Well then, If my image is going to be ruined because people think that I'm sleeping with you, and I care so much about what they believe, I guess I should just sleep with you. Rock out with my cock out, right? Throw on my 'come fuck me boots', let my hair down, and get my rocks off. Is that okay with you?"

His hands halt. Why did he stop? "You own a pair?" he asks.
He's asking about the boots. "That's not the point, but of course I do. Don't all women? I own three pair."
"Why three?"
I grin sheepishly. "During spring and summer of my junior year one of my friends in the graduate program taught a special subjects workshop at this center. Sex therapy for couples. I help him out a bit with some of the female parts. One session of the class was about attire that women can wear to spice things up, clothing that would make not only their partner find them attractive, but boost their own esteem." I giggle and cover my face, letting out a blast of breath. "I spent so much money on those boots that I didn't dare throw them out."
"Go get them," he says slapping my thigh.
I peer through my fingers. "Uh, no!" I stretch out and curl back into a little ball, resting my head on my hands, my legs still propped on his lap. "This isn't tea time. I'm going back to sleep and you're going to let me." I let my eyes lids drift together again.
"Don't you work today?"